


Underkill

by MrProphet



Category: Kill Doctor Lucky
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	Underkill

My nephew, the Honourable Lancelot Lucky-Blighton set the slow match to the cannon, sending a brass cannon ball rocketing through the door just in front of me. An impressive demonstration of the weapon’s continuing good condition, although had I not stopped to admire a particularly fine china duck in my collection, I should have been killed. From the boy’s agitation, I could tell that Lance was regretting his reckless action and so I did not belabour the point with chastisement, but turned a blind eye and continued my postprandial perambulations.

Passing through the shattered door I nearly tripped on a carelessly discarded coil of rope. Fearing for the health of my house guests I summoned Baxter, who arrived shortly thereafter and offered me a cream puff held back from dinner. A kind thought, but too rich for a man of my advanced years. I insisted that Lance eat it, and I am afraid to say that he took ill almost immediately.

I left Baxter to deal with the rope and walked on, but a commotion caused me to turn. Baxter was fooling about in a most undignified fashion, swinging from the rope by his foot. I wonder if he is quite right in the head and I fear I must reconsider his position in the household.

My great-niece Cecily was playing with the old monkey’s paw on the balcony. She was most amused by my imitation of a man in the throes of a sudden and fatal heart attack, and seemed terribly saddened when I discontinued it.

Most distressingly, when she stormed off in a huff she stepped on a part of the balcony weakened by the cannon ball’s passage and fell through the floorboards and dropped twenty feet to the floor below. If her fall had not been broken – she fortuitously struck her mother as she dropped – then I fear that her injuries would have been most severe.

Her mother, it seemed, had been attempting some adjustment of one of my hats, stuffing the brim with paper to tighten its fit. I wonder if she was trying to fit it to Lance’s head? Are they short of money, perhaps? As it was, the hat became lodged on Cecily’s head in the fall, while delicacy forbids me to describe what became of the monkey’s paw.

Thus another day at the J. Robert Lucky mansion comes to an end. Perhaps tomorrow shall bring some activity to break this monotony.


End file.
